This is What I Think of Love
by lovelunarchron
Summary: Cress isn't happy anymore. / cover image by tumblr user avidreader821
1. Chapter 1

Cress didn't see any point in it.

She had made her decision a long time ago. It had been several years coming. She just hadn't bothered to tell anyone before, least of all him. If he cared at all, if he paid any attention to her—then he would have realized it on his own anyway. He would have known that she was unhappy.

Known that she would eventually want out.

But that was exactly the problem—he _didn't_ pay attention. And he certainly didn't care. He was as metaphorically blind to her now as he had literally been all those years ago in the desert. That was when they had first fallen for each other.

It was laughable now.

How could she have thought that the two of them would ever be compatible? It was her first love, and first loves hardly ever lasted. If only she hadn't been trapped in the satellite, if only he hadn't kissed her on a rooftop, if only they hadn't gone through a war together.

Maybe then she would have had the opportunity to see that there were other men out there.

-o-

It was hard to tell in the beginning of their marriage.

After all, they were "madly in love," weren't they? After everything that had happened with Levana, they thought they could conquer anything. As long as they were _together_, nothing would be impossible.

Oh, those early years of private jokes, passionate nights, and soul-stimulating conversations that went on for hours.

But then she'd fallen ill, and she hadn't gotten better for a long time. He'd lost his job after taking her to so many doctor appointments. Their friends helped them out financially, but it wasn't the same as being independent. She became dependent on his care, and his happiness became dependent on hers. While his carefree attitude and charisma tided them over in the beginning, the debilitating nature of it all slowly chipped away at him too. Her optimism crumbled, and consequently so did his.

She blamed herself. If she'd never gotten sick, maybe this wouldn't have happened. He tried not to let it show, but she knew he blamed her too. She had stolen his livelihood. Stolen his free time doing the things he loved. Stolen his chance at a dream job.

Stolen his life.

It just wasn't the marriage he had signed up for.

But wasn't he was supposed to be strong when she was weak? Wasn't he supposed to be the sun when she could see no light? Wasn't he supposed to be there in health _and_ sickness? At least that had been his vow to her.

(The net dramas about couples dealing with illness were all fake).

(So were the dramas about love).

When she noticed him begin to pull away, she closed herself off, but only because she wanted him to meet her in that place in her mind. She needed him to understand what she was going through—or at least try. Every day for her had become a battle to live, a battle to keep going.

He could see that every day. Who would be able to understand her, if not him?

But he closed himself off to her in turn, unwilling to penetrate the walls she'd begun to put around her for her own protection.

Her own sanity.

To everyone else, her illness became her identity, as if nothing else about her was important anymore.

He stopped asking how she was, because the answer was never what he wanted to hear.

-o-

Getting better had been a slow process—three long years to be exact, and when it was finally over, they'd hardly celebrated. They tried to pick up where they left off, but it didn't feel natural anymore.

They were already too disconnected.

(Why would she want to connect with someone now who refused to do so when she had needed it the most?)

Passionate nights had faded into distant memories of when she didn't feel like she was constantly alone; soul-stimulating conversations turned into her wishing that they could talk about _anything_ that was actually important without getting defensive.

And now that she was healthy, he complained that they didn't spend enough time in bed together. She argued that the seven to eight hours of sleep they got per night was far too much time on the same mattress already. He would grumble about how she didn't pay attention to his needs, and she would retort that if he even _began _to meet hers, they would never even need to have this conversation in the first place.

They both tried to start living again. He finally had time to get another job, and she decided not to work so that she could finally do something active with her life. They both picked up new hobbies that were separate of each other.

Soon being _together_ just meant existing in the same room.

-o-

And so it continued.

Year after year.

Until she couldn't even remember why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place.

-o-

Now, after she'd already made her decision—_now_ he wanted to go to therapy.

Wanted to "start over."

"Didn't want to lose her."

Couldn't he see that he already had?


	2. Chapter 2

He was a terrible husband; he was inadequate in every way. Cress hated him now, he was sure of it. And why shouldn't she? He had nothing to offer her.

He hadn't been able to fix it. (He should have been able to).

He could only watch helplessly as her beautiful face turned paler each day.

As her pain intensified.

-o-

He'd started out doing dishes joyfully. Taking care of all the tasks at home that they used to divide in two. Taking care of her. It wasn't a burden, like she thought. _She_ wasn't a burden.

But he had no escape.

He was supposed to be selfless all the time now. (A hard feat for the way he'd always just thought about himself before he met her).

She demanded too much of him sometimes, and he couldn't give her what she needed. Because she didn't need _him_. She needed to get better.

And he needed an escape. Time in the skies. Laughter. Company.

Anything to distract him from what was going on at home. Anything to help him remember who he was before all this had happened.

-o-

Even their friends stopped calling because they could never go out anymore. If they didn't have anything exciting to talk about, the conversations went nowhere, and people didn't know what to say. At least their closest friends kept in touch, but they were too far away to come visit often.

If her illness wasn't terminal, then it wasn't a big deal, right? They all said the two of them didn't have enough joy, that they should be happy to be alive.

No one understood. Everyone abandoned them.

-o-

She began to reject him whenever he went near her. She spent hours consumed by her port instead of by him, claiming that it helped numb her mind and not think of the pain.

Slowly, she replaced him. Didn't need him anymore.

He wanted to be needed.

Needed by his wife.

-o-

He knew how much she dreamed of having children. He, too, had wanted to see how cute their kids would be some day. Now that all seemed impossible. They were both devastated.

-o-

Sometimes they even slept in separate rooms. She said his snoring kept her awake, and she needed to rest.

At first he didn't mind. He knew her health was more important than him being comfortable. But he missed her when he went to sleep, missed her when he woke up. The bed was too big for just him. He tried not to complain about it.

He heard her at night sometimes. Crying. From too much pain.

(Sometimes he cried too).

-o-

He'd been tempted several times. Still fairly youthful, he knew the women admired his looks and his former status. Who wouldn't want the infamous Captain Carswell Thorne, after all?

(His wife).

It was nice to feel desired again. Like he mattered.

But he'd never strayed. He'd stayed faithful. He'd known it would be impossible to know another love like they had. Or the way it used to be between them, anyway.

He didn't think she believed him. Maybe he had spent too much of their time together bragging about how great he was.

-o-

He had made many mistakes. Life had dealt them a terrible hand, and this was one game he hadn't known the rules to. (Couldn't cheat his way out of, either).

She was better now, though, wasn't she? Things should have changed for the better.

But the circumstances had changed _them_ instead. Hardened them.

She still wouldn't go near him.

-o-

She said that she was leaving.

That she didn't love him.

That he didn't love her.

-o-

He would prove her wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

It was time to stop looking backward. Time to stop dwelling.

(They needed to stop counting hurt for hurt).

For him, an attitude change was what made the difference. He wanted to prove that he loved Cress, but it was painfully obvious just how much he wasn't loving her. Not in the way she needed to be loved.

He had gone about everything wrong. He could dwell in all the mistakes, but he had never been one to do so. He would find a way to move them forward.

-o-

Fault was always subjective. Mistakes could be remedied. Lost time could be reclaimed.

_Prison had taught him that._

He was redeemable.

_Cress had taught him that._

He was a husband no matter what his feelings were.

_His vows had taught him that._

-o-

Not a nurse, not a caretaker: he only had his love to offer.

Despite his self-proclaimed know-how in the matter, he hadn't actually known what love was at all. She had been the one to prove him wrong when they'd first met. He had learned it all from her. It had been okay to trust, okay to be vulnerable, okay to let go of fear. She had made him believe that real love could exist.

(Between them).

It was his turn now, to make her believe again.

-o-

It was a hard lesson, swallowing his pride and putting aside all the hurt that he wanted to hurl back at her. The walls she'd put up were thick—almost impenetrable. Without her hacking skills and the Rampion to help him out, it wouldn't be easy to get her out of this satellite.

A crash was almost inevitable. He'd be running around blind again.

Deciding to be selfless again meant putting her above everything else. She was already there, though, wasn't she?

Her crush the size of Jupiter was no match for his love the size of the Galaxy.

She was _always_ above everything else.

He hadn't forgotten all this time; _Cress_ had forgotten.

Cress had also forgotten another important fact. Where he had failed in so many other aspects, there was one area that he had always excelled at. (No, charm was probably not going to work this time).

He was a schemer, an opportunist. For once, he would make that work in his favor.


End file.
